Heart Weary
by Spense
Summary: Sam is tired. And defeated. And overwhelmed. His reaction to that? Not so good. NOT a deathfic!
1. Chapter 1

HEART WEARY

by Spense

Set following the Supernatural episode "It's a Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester", Season 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing, etc.

Chapter One

Sam sat just watching the closed motel door in disbelief. From his place sitting on the far bed, the shut door looked ominous and final. He was truly defeated. Completely. It had begun on the day that Dean had hit him, twice, for using the ESP legacy from Azazel. He knew then that it was only a matter of time before his brother would leave him. He just didn't expect it now.

Sam had been unnerved already from his conversation with Uriel. He was safe only as long as he was useful. That was enough to rattle him. Shaken, he knew he hadn't handled it well when Dean had sat down and asked him calmly why he'd gone back on his pronouncement to quit using his powers. It was like he'd lit a powder keg in Sam.

He wasn't proud of his reaction. Not by a long shot. But the legacy of secrets between them both was gnawing away at the bond, and the double standard Dean held just sent him over the edge. Not a bright thing to do right now, no doubt about it. Dean was like a soldier still on edge from combat, and his reactions were exactly that.

The argument had been short, explosive, and violent. Full of comments from both of them that would have been best never said. At least Dean hadn't hit him this time.

Sam touched his aching jaw absently as he thought about it. He had been pretty convinced that he'd never seen Dean as angry as he'd been that day when he'd caught Sam and Ruby in the act of exorcising the demon. Ever. His feeling of being in another reality had only intensified as Dean had begun pulling his clothing out of the closet. It was a testament to his addled state of mind that all he could think about was the fact that Dean had actually hung something up. On a hanger.

But now, now . . . this time, . . . well, Dean had been madder than ever. Sam had made the mistake of asking him what he'd wanted him to do. Kill Sanheim by whatever means necessary? Or die.

He tried to jumpstart his brain. Dean hadn't answered the question. He'd just said again that Sam 'was turning into something that he would hunt.'

Even the slamming of the motel room door, and the creaking of the Impala's car door didn't penetrate his shock. He sank down to the bed, listening to the distinctive sound of the engine roaring away into the distance. Even that didn't even dim the words still hanging in the air. 'You're something I would hunt'.

Sam wasn't sure how long he sat there, in the room now empty of anything 'Dean'. Dean himself, or any of his belongings. This time Dean really had left. Uriel's words burned over the echo of Dean's comments. "You're alive only because you're useful."

Sam closed his eyes. He'd been forsaken by God. Castiel hadn't even wanted to touch him. He finally had, but only as saying that he was glad that Sam had turned his back on his powers.

He had nothing left. God had forsaken him. Dean had finally had enough. The two constants that had kept him going, kept him making the hard choices, and kept him striving towards the light had given up on him.

Then the heart ache hit. Dean had left. Sam had known that Dean would be furious. But he didn't realize exactly how much.

Dean had left.

The angels didn't like him much. All Sam's prayers were going to go unanswered.

Dean left.

He wasn't coming back.

He hadn't even had to say why. They both knew. It was because Dean didn't want to have to kill Sam when he finally went too far. Because he'd already gone too far. Uriel had said as much.

Sam felt what was left of his heart shatter as he sat in silence on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he'd shared with his brother.

Despite what Dean had always claimed, Sam didn't really cry a whole lot. You didn't survive in the Winchester household without being exceptionally tough. But here he was, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks, dripping of his chin, unchecked and unnoticed.

Sam bit his lip as he sat, completely limp, unable to move. He'd lost everything. Absolutely everything. Jess. Dean. His mom. His Dad.

Jess, who reminded him on an innocent time. A time to take a breather and remember that life was more than darkness and misery. An all too brief time of joy, until the darkness he carried around with him took her too. Her only fault was to cross paths with him and to fall in love with him. He had dared to love her too, and she died.

His mother, who had traded his life before he was even born in order to save John. Dean had told him in the car as they'd driven back. He'd only gotten bits and snatches through Dean's brief explanation of what had happened. Mom was a hunter. Their grandparents were hunters. Dad had died, and Mom had brought him back. At Sam's expense.

Sam had never had a chance. Before he was born, he'd been sacrificed. John had clearly figured it out somewhere along the line. Not about what Mary had done, clearly, but that Sam was tainted. That was why Sam had never been good enough for him. Just a poor pale copy of the perfect son. Dad had appeared to Dean when his elder son, the perfect soldier, had shot the yellowed eyed demon. Put his hand on his son's shoulder, and smiled his approval. Sam had stood on the outside of that warm circle, as he had his whole life, and had rated only an absent smile of notice.

And Dean. Like Dad sacrificing himself for Dean, Dean had sacrificed himself for Sam. And how had Sam repaid him? Lying. Going down the dark road, against Dean's clear wishes. More lies. Some repayment.

Then Dean was raised by an ANGEL. Who had that kind of worthiness? It was so obvious. Dean clearly was worthy. Anybody could see that. Sam was not.

He'd lost everybody. Failed everybody in this life. Dean was better off without him, no doubt about that. It was only right that he'd leave. He should. Sam's taint should not rub off on him any more than it already had.

Dean would be fine without him. He'd have Bobby. Sam wasn't blind to the kind of bond that had developed between them. Bobby was the kind of father that John should have been, but wasn't. It was only right that Dean should have that. Sam had failed Bobby too. He should have stepped in and tried to fill that hole for the man when Dean had died. Bobby deserved that, deserved to have even a pale copy of the original. But Sam had screwed that up too.

Sam sat there as the night grew deeper, tears falling forlornly, lost in thought as the pieces of his life slowly crystallized around him. He'd failed everybody in absolutely every way possible. He was dammed. There was no question about it. He would go to hell because even God had given up on him.

And he was so tired.

It was time to go. The world would be a much better place without him.

But, he could chose how he went out. And he could do one last good thing. For himself, not for anybody else. Not for atonement, or penance. He saw clearly that he was beyond that. No, this was for himself alone.

He would take out Lilith. The seals would remain intact if he did that. Dean would be safe. He could continuing hunting, or live another kind of life. And Sam would be . . . free. In hell, but free of the pain of this life. And that was enough. It had to be, because that was all he had left.


	2. Chapter 2

HEART WEARY

By Spense

Chapter Two

The decision made, and with a solid resolve, Sam whirled into action. He smashed his phone. There wasn't anybody he was going to need to talk to ever again anyway. Nobody could find him with it now, if they even bothered to try. He packed what possessions he had, including the laptop, and the few weapons of his that hadn't been in the trunk of the Impala, and vacated the hotel room. He took another room in the same motel that a couple was vacating early. He paid cash to them for it, as it was perfect - further down at the end, where it would be quieter, and he wouldn't be disturbed.

He'd had plenty of practice in this kind of hunt. After all, he'd had six months of single minded work to track down the Trickster. This wouldn't be much different, except he wouldn't be facing the Trickster in the guise of Bobby in the end.

So he set up the laptop, and began to methodically track down Lilith.

SNSNSNSN

Sam lost complete track of time. He had no idea what day it was, nor even what time it was. With the curtains shut, he couldn't see whether it was dark or light. Nor did he care. He ate when he couldn't ignore the hunger pangs any longer, ordering in pizza or anything else that could be delivered. He showered when he thought about it, and slept only when he couldn't stay awake. All energy and focus was spent on the meticulous tracking of Lilith. Unbeknownst to Sam, he was a dead ringer for his father at that point.

His only interruption came in the form of Ruby.

She pounded on the door, then opened it sharply, stalking in angrily. "What do you think you're doing?" She demanded.

He looked up at her briefly, then returned his attention to the computer. "Going after Lilith. Thanks for waiting until I let you in."

"You aren't strong enough yet," she pointed out, anger warring with fear on her face.

Sam didn't even acknowledge that she spoke.

"Sam!"

Sam finally looked up at her. "Leave."

"Sam, you're going to kill yourself!"

The cold look on Sam's face forced her back a step. "Leave Ruby. If you don't, I'll exorcise you."

She stared at him a moment, took in the truth of his words, and caught her breath. "You _are_ going to kill yourself," she said almost to herself.

Sam's eyes narrowed, and he spoke one word. "Go."

Ruby found herself propelled out the door, the solid door slamming behind her. She stared at the barrier in frightened amazement for a moment before she left.

Sam changed hotels a couple of times after that, covering his tracks well. Nobody bothered him. He didn't expect them too. Then, sooner than he'd expected, he was ready.

SNSNSNSN

Sam set up the warehouse carefully. He'd done his reconnaissance well. There would be no collateral damage that he could avoid. Nobody lived around here. It had been abandoned for decades. It was perfect for a demon massacre.

His research had tracked Lilith and her cohorts to a community nearby. Apparently, they were on another vacation.

Standing in the middle of the large, cavernous space, no protections, no wards, nothing but himself, Sam closed his eyes and 'called'.

Soon, humans were slipping in from all openings. One or two from the doors, another from the window, a third coming down the stairs in the back. One by one they ranged in front of him until they were twenty strong.

"Sam Winchester," a man smiled pleasantly, crossing his arms, his eyes black and opaque. "What brings you here?"

"Lilith."

"What makes you think she wants to see you?" he replied cordially.

"Doesn't matter. I'll be seeing her," Sam replied implacably, arms loose at his side.

"Hum," the man drawled, not the least troubled by Sam's comments. "Well, that might be difficult. You'd have to come through us first," he smiled apologetically.

"Not a problem," Sam said dryly, and lifted both hands to hip level, palms up.

It took only a second, but the complacent looks on the demons faces changed to surprise, then fear. Soon they were coughing and black smoke filled the room.

Sam hadn't moved.

The smoke began to collect near the floor, as one by one, the hosts dropped to their knees, then collapsed altogether.

Turning his hands palms down, Sam pushed down towards the floor, and the smoke responded, flaming at the edges and dissipating.

Only a small child was left standing behind the group of people now flat on the smokeless floor.

"Pretty good, Sam. That was neat," the little girl said admiringly, looking up at him with guiles eyes. Then, with startling quickness, the eyes turned white. "But I'm not so easy."

"Didn't expect you would be," Sam said easily, and lifted his hands again.

The war of wills lasted a long time. Sam was trembling, blood dripping from his nose, trying to keep his vision from graying out, until finally, the child coughed. After that, it was quick. Sam held it together until the last of the flames and smoke disappeared. Dean was safe. He'd actually done something right for a change.

Sighing, Sam let go gratefully into the darkness. No light waiting for him, was his last conscious thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Heart Weary

By Spense

Chapter Three

Sam was warm. And comfortable. It didn't connect that that he probably shouldn't be all that comfortable until the memory of all that had happened came flooding back. Warm, yes. The pit was supposed to be downright hot. But comfortable? No. Must be that demon blood. Sam opened his eyes expecting the worst.

He did not expect to be looking directly at Jess. But there she was, smurf pajamas and all, lying next to him on their bed at their apartment at Stanford. She was propped up on her elbow, smiling at him.

"Surprise!"

Her grin was as unexpected as the welcome. "Jess?" he mumbled stupidly.

"In the flesh. Or . . . what passes for it now, I guess." She was openly laughing at him now, as he continued to gaze idiotically at her. "What? You didn't think you'd see me?"

"What are you doing in Hell?" He still wasn't processing.

"You idiot," she laughed as she hugged him. "You aren't in Hell."

"I'm not?" He asked stupidly.

"You know, for such a smart guy, you can be a really stupid sometimes," she mumbled as she kissed him.

Sam luxuriated in the feel of her skin, in her scent, in her just 'being' Jess. Then, he began to wake up. "How . . .?"

She pulled back and sat up cross-legged, looking at him with that direct gaze he remembered so well. He just drunk in her face.

"First, none of this was your fault."

Sam's eyes widened as he remember. Jess pinned on the ceiling, the fire . . .

"It wasn't," she insisted, clearly aware of what he was thinking. "Let me finish," she commanded as his mouth opened.

"Not my dying in the fire, not Dean's dying, or your dads. Not your Mom's either. You're a victim just as much as anybody else in all this."

Sam felt the same despair wash over him. She didn't get it. And he was too tired to try to explain. Now he couldn't even die right.

"No, Sam! For one thing, you aren't dead. Close, but not quite. I'm here because I volunteered. I wanted to see you and talk to you."

"I'm glad," Sam said simply, propping his elbow on the pillow and resting his head in his hand. "I've missed you so much."

"I know. I've missed you too. But we'll see each other again, and you still have work to do." She said it with such assurance that it very near took his breath away.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked quietly. "You don't know what I've done."

"Of course I do," she said matter of factly. "I know all of it. And you don't have anything to be sorry about."

"But Dean said that Castiel told him that if Dean didn't stop me, the angels would. And the angels don't like me much."

"No," Jess corrected. "Castiel said that the angels didn't know where that path would lead, so they didn't want you on it. Nobody, not angel, not demon, not person, can know the future. Only God does, and he's not telling. So you could have been right."

Sam's brow furrowed at that, thinking that through. "But Dean . . . "

"Dean doesn't know everything," she said tartly. "Besides, he was an idiot for leaving, and he knows it, too." She sounded so much like his older brother that he had to smile. And that turned into a pang of regret. He missed Dean. A lot.

Jess smiled gently, as though she knew what he was thinking. Who knows, maybe she did.

"I'm so tired, Jess," he finally said on a sigh, flopping back to look at the ceiling. That brought back bad memories and he shut his eyes. He put an arm over his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the ceiling that Jess had died on.

His arm was tugged away, and when he opened his eyes, Jess's smiling face blocked the view of the ceiling.

"I know, Sam. You don't have to go back yet."

"I don't want to go back, Jess. Everything I touch is tainted."

"No it's not. You're just tired. It's making your view of things skewed."

Sam just sighed; a heavy sigh of bone tired exhaustion and closed his eyes. Her feather light kiss on his eyes relaxed him.

"Sleep now, I'll be here when you wake up."

And she was. Gradually the despair faded, as she coaxed him out into the sun. They walked, and rode bikes, and had picnics in the grass under the bright California sun. It was all the wonderful times that Sam remembered, with none of the stress of class, or wondering if the supernatural would catch up with him. And they talked. About Dean. About John. About Sam's feelings about where he fit in. About the angels and God. And the angels disdain for him. Jess was exactly as Sam remembered. Funny, intuitive, and caring. She helped him work through his despair and exhaustion. She was as mad at him as Dean would have been about his suicidal attack on the demons.

Gradually Sam began to feel less raw. He wasn't whole, not by any means. He was hurt too deep for that. And he was still heart weary. He probably always would be. The betrayals and losses had taken their toll. Plus, the hurt of Dean's abandonment would never leave. That ache was deep and abiding. Dean had been the one person besides Jess that he thought would never turn on him. To have that happen was shattering. But at least his time with Jess put to rest his feelings of guilt over her death, and soothed some of the edges of his splintered soul. So now at least he could function. Enough as a demon killing machine at least. Jess was a healing balm that he treasured. And each day in the sunshine with her was a gift that he wouldn't turn away.


	4. Chapter 4

Heart Weary

By Spense

Chapter Four

The beeping was driving Sam crazy. He threw his arm over his face, trying to block it out. Why did they need a clock radio anyway? It had been making him nuts for a couple of nights now. He'd hear it beeping, wake up and throw a pillow at it. Why Jess set it for such odd times was beyond him. Sometimes 1 in the morning, another time it was 5. Last night it was 3:19am exactly. Jess would just smile, unplug it, and coax him back to bed. Then he'd be too distracted to worry about it.

But this night, she wasn't turning it off. It was driving him insane. He was so tired, and just wanted to sleep.

"Jess," Sam muttered, hoping she'd get up to turn it off this time. He was surprised he hadn't broken the stupid thing yet.

The beeping continued, becoming more annoying. Sam tossed his head, trying to wake up enough to turn it off, but somehow, his sleep was so deep he was having trouble waking. "Jess, turn it off."

A hand grabbed his and squeezed so tight he thought his fingers would break. "Jess, what . . .?" He tried again to wake up. This was like a nightmare.

The sound of voices intruded. They weren't Jessica's. Sam tried to swim towards consciousness. He didn't feel like he was in danger. He just was so tired he couldn't wake up.

A hand on the side of his face focused him. The beeping faded into the background as a voice took its place. A familiar voice, and a familiar touch.

"Come on, Sammy. Time to wake up. You've slept long enough."

Dean? But Dean was furious at him. He'd left because Sam was evil and had lied to him. This nightmare was getting worse. He really wished Jess would wake him up.

"Sam. Wake up. We need to talk. Okay? I'm offering a chick-flick moment here. One time offer. All you have to do is open your eyes."

Easier said than done. What was going on? Why was it so hard? And why did Dean's voice sound so shaky? And frankly, why was Dean there anyway? That alone convinced him it was a dream. But, what the hey. Concentrating, he wrenched open his eyes.

"Hey there," Dean's shaky voice was accompanied by an even more tentative smile in a pale face. "'Bout time."

Sam looked at his brother blankly. Then took in a smiling Bobby standing right beside his brother. And behind that, a dark haired man with a cool smile on his face. He looked like an accountant. Castiel?

"Sam? Can you say something?" Dean's smile was beginning to fade. His cool fingers gently took hold of Sam's chin and turned his brother's face to meet his own beseeching eyes.

Sam's eyes took in the machines, and the pastel walls beyond Dean. Hospital. The click and whir of an IV pump, the beeping of a heart monitor. How had he gotten here? His gaze wandered over the now worried faces of Dean and Bobby again, and the cool face of the angel. Dean directed his attention back to him once more.

"Sammy?"

Dean was clearly worried. Sam needed to say something just to get that look off his brother's face. Still not sure if any of this was real, he found it really didn't matter. He'd do anything, even in a dream, just to get that look of Dean's face.

After a false start, he was finally able to grind out "Why y'here? I thought that Castiel over there had rescued you from hell."

Caistiel finally grinned, as Dean looked confused. "Huh?" He looked around, puzzled, then looked back at his brother. The worry had lifted some, and now he looked slightly exasperated. "Okay, Sammy, guess you still aren't completely in there yet. How about getting some more sleep?"

Sam thought that was a great idea, and his eyes slid shut on their own. The beeping of the heart monitor reminded him of something. "Dean?" His voice sounded weak even to himself.

"Yeah?"

"Tell Jess to let you shoot the clock radio. I think it's possessed."

He heard an amused snort as he fell asleep.

A whisper interrupted him again just seconds later. This time it was Jess. "Its okay, Sam. It really is time to wake up."

Sam frowned. He just wanted to sleep. First dream-Dean, now Jess. He opened his eyes again. He may as well deal with both of them, then he could go back to sleep. Funny, it was easier this time. And this time he knew he was really awake, not dreaming.

The sight that met his eyes was unexpected. The hospital was the same, but Dean had moved. Real Dean. Real hospital. So when had Dean had time to move? Sam had just closed his eyes for a second, but now his brother was sitting alongside his bed, feet propped up on the mattress, attention trained on the TV. Bobby was gone, so was the angel.

Sam took a moment to study his brother. Dean didn't look mad. He looked tired. Really, really tired. Might as well get the explosion over with. He really should have taken Dean off the emergency contact card. Dean probably hadn't been happy to get a call from the hospital.

Sam looked at the TV program Dean was so intent on. Grinning, he managed to croak, "Dude. Oprah AND Dr. Phil? Come on."

Dean's face was a study as he swiveled so fast at his brother's voice that Sam was surprised his head didn't fall off.

"Sam!" Dean scrambled to his feet in order to get closer to Sam.

Sam watched bemused, to tired to move or really say much more. He just raised an eyebrow cautiously, still waiting for the explosion.

Dean surprised him. The grin on his face was huge, reminding Sam of his brother as a pre-teen. He didn't think he'd seem him that animated and open since that time. He blinked. Okaaayyy.

"Are you with me this time?"

"Ah, yeah," Sam said carefully. He wasn't any more or less coherent than he had been a few minutes ago, except that he was pretty clear on what had been a dream, and what had not been.

Dean relaxed and grabbed the chair, smiling. "Sure about that? You wanted me to shoot a clock radio. Claimed it was possessed."

"It was driving me crazy," Sam said, echoing the smile, all the while wondering how long Dean would stay. Dean surprised him yet again by snorting, clearly amused.

"Look, man," Sam said tiredly after a moment, "I'm sorry I didn't get you off my emergency card. If I'd been thinking, I'd have made sure the hospital wouldn't have contacted you." He didn't want to interrupt the moment of accord between his brother and himself, but Dean wouldn't thank him for it later.

Dean's expression went from relaxed to tight, and his mood changed to ballistic in a space of time that made even Sam's jaw drop in awe. He just wished it wasn't directed at him.

"What the hell . . .?" Dean exploded, backing down a little at Sam's wince. "If I hadn't been there, you'd have died!" He sat back down in his chair, drained. "But that was the point, wasn't it? You wanted to die."

Sam looked away, not wanting Dean to see the truth.

"Uh-uh," Dean said determinedly, gently grasping Sam's chin and turning it back towards him. "We're talking about this now."

Sam tried to lighten the moment. "You? Talk?"

"Yeah. So why, Sam? Why throw everything away?"

"You have to ask?" Sam said incredulously.

Dean just looked at him pointedly, waiting. Sam had never been able to resist that pressure.

"I couldn't do it a third time, okay?" He said shortly, trying to turn away again, at least as far as he could being flat on his back in a hospital bed, and once again had his face gently turned back.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. He waited a moment for an answer, then prompted, "Sam!"

"You gone. Okay?" Sam replied shortly, as his vision blurred a little.

"What? Third time?" Dean looked perplexed as his mind worked. "What do you mean, third time?" At Sam's obvious reluctance, Dean pushed. He hated to do it when the guy was down, but Sam had just tried to commit suicide by demon, and Dean shuddered at how close he'd actually come. "Dude," he warned.

Sam caved. For the first time to told Dean about Wednesday with the Trickster. When Dean had died and not waken up. He told him about it in all its cold brutality. About the monster he had become. About how he'd actually driven a knife into Bobby.

Dean sat back in shock, face pale. After a second, he asked, "And the second time? When I was down under?"

"No. And I'm not talking about that," Sam said with a touch of defiance. "It was a little better, but not much. I coped differently."

"Meaning you didn't cope at all," Dean guessed.

Pointedly, Sam didn't answer.

Dean was beginning to get the picture. "And . . ." He prompted. They had to get to the bottom of this now.

"And I'm tired, Dean. I don't want to do it again. Surely you can get that, of all people," Sam said coldly.

Dean flinched, remembering the time in Cold Oak where he'd held his dead brother.

They remained silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, until Sam finally broke the silence. "So what's wrong with me?" He felt lousy. Massive headache, and exhaustion far beyond the normal.

"Aneurism," Dean said quietly. "You ruptured an aneurism. Not a bad one as they go, I guess, and since we got to you so fast it turned out okay. Surgery took care of it, but you've been in a coma for three weeks. They kept telling me that you'd come around, but . . ." Dean trailed off, looking away and swallowing convulsively. He breathed deep, then looked back at Sam and continued. "You finally began showing signs of coming out of it about a week ago. It took this long for you to really come around."

Sam's surprise at both the news, and his brother's reaction was overtaken by a yawn. "That why I'm so tired?" He said groggily, fatigue hitting him like a hammer as though just the thought of it was enough.

"Yep," Dean smiled. "Go back to sleep, Princess. We'll be calling you Sleeping Beauty now."

"Jerk," Sam Muttered as his eyes closed of their own accord.

"Bitch," Dean agreed. "Sleep, Sammy. I'm not leaving, promise."

Sam couldn't believe the relief that that single statement sent through him as he slid back down to a deep sleep.

NOTE: One more Chapter to go!


	5. Chapter 5

_My most sincere apologies for the long wait. Honestly, this chapter had been mostly written this whole time. I never start posting a story until the whole thing is blocked out begining to end, and completely written, if not polished. So the ending is what I had planned. It just seemed as the episodes actually progressed that it was kind of futile to finished this when it got more and more AU. But thank you for your kind reviews and private messages asking me for the last chapter. So, finally, here it is._

**Heart Weary**

**Chapter Five**

Sam found himself sliding in and out of sleep over the next week or so, without a lot of control over it. This, predictably, prompted Dean to point out that Narcolepsy could be a side effect of brain surgery. Bobby whacked him upside the head since Sam didn't have the energy (or ability, truth be told) to sit up and do it himself.

Sometimes Sam woke up with Jessica. But those times were few and getting fewer. More often he woke up thinking that the hospital was all a dream, Dean wasn't really there, and asking for Jessica. Dean would gently point out that Jessica was 'away' or 'out' and try to humor him until he went back to sleep, or his mind cleared.

Other times Sam woke, he was convinced that Dean was angry with him and leaving Every time Dean would desperately work to reassure his brother that yes, he was there, and no, he wasn't angry nor leaving. Other times Sam was lucid, and for a complete turnabout, Dean would force a discussion on a reluctant Sam.

The lucid times gradually began to win out, and Dean began to wear Sam's distrust down. When one is stuck in bed, one really is the ultimate captive audience. Although a lot was hazy for Sam, a few things did stick out.

The first was that Dean never seemed to leave the room. Sam never once woke up without Dean by his side. If Sam was awake, sometimes Bobby would force Dean to leave to shower in the residents facilities, or sleep in a nearby chair. But not once did Sam wake, even slightly, without Dean right there beside him.

The conversations with Bobby after the older man had forced Dean out of the room bore the most fruit for Sam. From Bobby, Sam learned what Dean had been up to while Sam had been prepared to take down Lillith. Apparently Dean had come back about 36 hours after their original fight. That was after heavy drinking, trying to hussle pool while three sheets to the wind, then sleeping it off (24 hours of sleeping it off). When he'd woken up sober (finally) his anger had burned out (well, mostly, according to Bobby. Completely, according to Dean) and he went looking for Sam. By the time he'd realized Sam was gone, he'd contacted Bobby.

"Dean was beside himself. He came to me after he'd tried to track you down himself. Finding nobody at your motel room, and tiny pieces of a phone in a dumpster there, made a real impact. He was beside himself when he reached my place. I could hardly understand him."

Bobby shot a wry look at Sam. "He just couldn't believe that he couldn't track you down. I told him again what I told him when he came back from downstairs - if you didn't want ta be found, you ain't gonna be found."

Sam squirmed, embarrassed all over again, and plucked at the blanket. He looked beseechingly at the older man. "Man, I'm sorry Bobby. When are you ever going to let that go?"

Bobby waved a dismissive hand. "I already forgave you. I knew what you were going through. Just don't ever do it again!" He pointed a stern finger at Sam, who nodded dejectedly. "To me OR your brother."

Sam opened his mouth to point out that Dean had left HIM, but a raised eyebrow from Bobby made him reconsider.

After a pause, Bobby continued. "Like I said, the boy was beside himself. Feeling guilty as all get out, and not able to find you. He turned up stones in places I didn't know existed. Then Ruby showed up."

"Ruby!" Sam was astonished.

"Yep, Ruby. Go figure. It wasn't a match made in heaven," Bobby said wryly, with characteristic understatement.

Sam snorted. That was glossing over what had to be the most major fireworks show since the fourth of July. "Unholy alliance," Sam muttered, the irony not lost on him.

Bobby just smirked, and they were both silent a moment. Sam was just in awe all over again at what his brother would do for him. Essentially anything.

Bobby cleared his throat ostensibly and continued more gently. "They tracked where you met Lillith, the same way you did, I expect. And we got there just as you finished taking down the whole bunch of 'em. Just in time to see you drop like somebody had cut your strings."

There was silence once again as Sam took it in. And he almost missed Bobby adding under his breath, "Just like Cold Oak all over again."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You did keep him from doing anything stupid this time?" Sam looked sharply at Bobby. "Didn't you!"

"Yes!" Bobby snapped back. "And only because you were still breathin'!"

Sam relaxed again in relief.

"Just . . . don't give up on your brother again, kid," Bobby added softly.

"Me?" Sam looked up in surprise.

"You. He ain't leaving you anymore than you're leaving him. So trust him a tad more. I can guarantee he'll be trusting you from now on," Bobby said knowingly.

Sam nodded slowly as the truth of that sunk in. "And he won't be letting me out of his sight for a long time, either," he commented wryly.

"That too," Bobby nodded with a grin.

******SNSNSNS*******

The Implala sat on the side of the road in the bright sun. Sam sat on the hood, leaning back, face to the sun. He soaked up the warmth, and enjoyed just being out. Sipping the iced tea (all Dean would let him have, the ass), he opened his eyes as his brother cleared his throat. Instantly wary, the opened his eyes and looked at his brother's back.

Dean was leaning on the front quarter panel, looking away from Sam, sipping his beer. "Uh, so, about Lillith."

The only way Dean could bring up a difficult subject, Sam thought wryly. He knew Dean had been hiding something. It was subtle, but Sam could tell. But frankly, he just hadn't had the energy to find out what it was.

Between the fuzzy weeks of waking up and not knowing reality, the recovery, and quite honestly, the grief of losing Jess again, Sam had been content to drift. He was just comfortable knowing that Dean was by his side and in control once again. Big brother mode in spades, but still, Sam was happy to let him deal. The fact that Dean seemed to trust him (well as much as he could all things considered) and that their relationship seemed to be healing was enough for him.

Sam took a sip of his beer. Finally, here it was. About time too. With Lillith dead, they needed to make some plans. "Yeah?"

"Lillith isn't dead."

It took Sam a minute for that to sink in. He stared off into the distance, beer forgotten. Then turned to his brother sharply. "What? No. Oh, she's dead alright. I know!"

Dean looked at him with compassion. "No, Sammy, she's not. Ruby checked. Lillith jumped ship. A split second before you got her. Man, I'm sorrybut , she's alive and kicking. Lying low, but alive. Ruby told me while you were in surgery." Dean looked away, pain on his face. And added softly, but Sam heard anyway, "And wasn't that a kick in the teeth."

For his part, Sam was just staring in shock with his mouth hanging open. He'd done all that for nothing? Man he just couldn't do anything right, could he. Before he could blow, Dean broke in, looking him dead in the eye.

"Sam, you have her on the run. She's more afraid of you now than ever. We'll get her, the conventional way. No more powering up."

Before Sam could get angry, Dean finished his thought. "I'm not sitting in a hospital for a month hoping you wake up from exploding your brain again. Not ever. No, we go after her. But we find some new exercisioms, some new demon killing weapon like the knife. Bobby's working on that. You did good, Sam. We're whole again, and we're strong. We can do this," Dean finished strongly. Confidently.

Sam shut his mouth. Whatever he thought was useless in the face of Dean's confident strength. They always had been stronger together. He nodded briefly and looked back out at the scenery, absently taking another sip of his beer. A squeeze on his shoulder from a strong hand strengthened his resolve. They would conquer. After all, how could they not?

===End===


End file.
